Page 1 of The Outlaw and the Heir

AMBROSE

The heavy thump of boots was all I needed to realize I’d overslept...again. Beside me, Bear stiffened and lifted his head, ears flopped forward and alert before jumping out of our shared bed. That, of course, resulted in the whole bed shaking violently as his massive body shoved against the mattress, and he hit the floor. I didn't have time to worry because I knew what would happen next, and I needed to head it off at the pass.

"I'm up," I growled, clearing my throat and hoping I sounded awake enough.

"Could've fooled me," my father said in a low voice through the thin wooden door that separated me from the rest of the ranch.

"I'm up," I repeated because I'd learned long ago that trying to explain would just be seen as an excuse, and excuses weren't acceptable for James Isaiah. It also meant admitting I hadn't been up on time, which invited its own set of problems. Problems were complicated, especially when they involved other people, and I liked my life as simple as I could make it.

"Then get moving," he said, sounding far less grumpy than a moment ago. "You still need to eat, and we've got shit to do."

"Yessir," I said, knowing that would contain his anger. My father could be hard, demanding, and unforgiving when it came to his standards, but he wasn't unreasonable. So long as he could see you were willing to pull your weight and do it with some common sense, he could be good company.

I waited, not daring to move and give away my position on the bed until I heard the heavy thump of my father's boots retreat back down the porch. The ranch had a main house, and there was enough room for me there...technically. The fact was, I liked sleeping in the small, claustrophobic cabins near the stables. My sister always wondered why I slept where the rest of the workers did rather than with my family, but...my sister was different from me and would never understand.

"Bear," I rumbled as I slid out of bed, bare feet pressing against the wood as I stretched. I let out a groan as my aching muscles enjoyed the sensation. The big dog backed away from the door, his drooping, dopey face stretched into what I liked to think of as a smile. My brother didn't think dogs could smile, but my brother also didn't believe anything that wasn't told to him by someone with a title...or my father, for that matter. I knew in my gut that Bear could smile, and he did it a lot when he was around people he liked, which didn't include my brother.

I had no idea what kind of dog he was, only that I’d seen the mutt when a trader passed through the nearby town of Rapture five years ago. The man had said the pup was the runt of the litter and no one had any use for him. I did, though, and I disagreed. My father scoffed when I rolled up with the dog, asking what I'd paid for it. There was no way I’d tell him I’d paid the man a dollar for a dog that wasn't a good rancher or hunter as far as we knew, and yet when I refused to tell him, my father had let the subject drop for some reason.

Runt or not, Bear grew up to be bigger than any of the other dogs on the ranch by a considerable amount. My brotherthought he was stupid, but I knew better, and I thought my father did too, though he never spoke in the dog's defense. Bear was big enough for my nieces and nephews to ride if they wanted to, but generally, he was with me, always knowing when to keep close and when to keep his distance. Plus, his sense of danger was unmatched by even the most skittish of the animals we had, and I'd yet to find anything dangerous, man or beast, that wanted to test Bear when they spotted him.

Getting to my feet, I knew there wouldn't be much time before my father returned, or worse, sent someone to get me, always a sign that he was truly irritated. I walked over to the chair I’d thrown my clothes on last night and stopped short when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to find a familiar yet strange face looking back at me. I grimaced when I realized it was the mirror my sister had insisted I take with me despite not needing anything of the sort. My dark hair was kept short and out of my eyes, and a thick nose flattened my face, set off by a broad jaw that some called strong, and green eyes from my mother. My two siblings had our father's dark eyes. My body was strong and covered with dark hair, but there were marks, little scars, and burn marks from a life not easily lived but not awful either.

It wasn't like I needed to worry about my appearance. I only agreed to take the mirror because it had been my mother's. It had once been a beautiful piece of shining glass with a carefully carved wood surround. Now, the glass had fine cracks around the edges, dusty in ways that no rag could clean, and the wood was faded and chipped. But it had been my mother's, so I kept it.

I wasn't aterriblesight, if I were honest. Not the most handsome of men, that much I knew, but I didn't look horrible either. I'd seen how some of the women in Rapture, or some of Lizzie's friends when they made the trek to visit, looked at me. My face might not have been show-stopping, but the sight of meshirtless, covered in sweat and dirt, and working was apparently more than enough to make up for an average face. And then there was the sight of my manhood between my legs, hanging low in the gentle heat of the early morning. It was an attractive sight, though I'd never admit to someone else that any manhood could be interesting to me, not even my own. Still, it would be simple just to reach down and grip myself, to think of?—

Bear barked. It was a low, rumbling woof, but it was enough to jerk me out of my thoughts before they dragged me down some obscure and unneeded path. Wherever they’d been going wasn't important, I had things to do this morning. I scratched his head vigorously before snatching up my clothes to get ready for the day. There was bound to be a good spread waiting for me at the main house, and my stomach rumbled at the thought.

"C'mon," I told Bear as I left the cabin after shoving my feet into my boots. Only the faintest glow of orange at the edge of the horizon gave away that the sun was coming, and we needed to move fast if we wanted to get things done before the land was baked by its unforgiving rays.

"Mornin', Ambrose," came a warm voice that I definitely didn't think about when lying alone at night.

"Mornin', Walter," I said to the man who ran our stables. There was no one on the ranch, in Rapture, or I'd bet for several miles, who knew horses like Walter did. My father swore the man could read the mind of any horse and tame or calm even the most temperamental or spooked horse. I did my best not to notice that he was built better than me, had warm eyes that crinkled at the corners, or that the sight of him sent a zany feeling of sharp anticipation through me, like lightning moments before it shot through the sky.

"Slow to wake up?" he asked with an easy smile while he brushed down one of the horses.

"Not really," I said because there was no point in admitting what my father had suspected.

"I bet," he said with a wink that did nothing to help push away the thoughts I'd been having in front of the mirror. They were thoughts that didn't have anything to do with the appreciation of my own body but rather with the idea of someone else's body being there. That wasn’t much better as far as I was concerned and none of anyone else's business.

"Daddy, I got the feed," a young voice piped up, and I turned to see Walter’s son, Arthur, standing near me with a huge pail clutched in his hands. The boy was nearly eight, dependent on his father to raise him. His mother had died giving birth to him, something we shared, but his father never held that against him, which wasn't something I was so sure I could say. Walter was a damn fine father who had been teaching his son everything he knew but still making sure to spend time with him that didn't involve work.

"Nicely done, Arthur," Walter said warmly, waiting until the boy approached with the pail before ruffling his hair and beaming down at him. "You remember where it gets dumped. Be my guest, and then you can help me with Devil."

The boy's eyes lit up, and I couldn't help but smile at his sheer enthusiasm for a job a man three times his age would see as a chore. Then again, my nieces and nephews still approached everyday crap with the same sort of excitement. Sometimes, I thought grown men and women could do with some of that starry-eyed enthusiasm, but other times, I knew that without salt and earth in your blood, you would float into the sky and not get a lot done.

"He seems to be doin' well," I said, watching the boy, humming as he went to deposit the feed that undoubtedly wasn't all that large a delivery. But he was only seven, and there was time to learn how to work harder and faster down the road. Fornow, it was enough that he was growing to love the work and listen to his father. Everything else could come later.

"Don't tell your sister that," Walter said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes despite looking otherwise genuine. "Seems to think he needs a 'woman's touch' in raising him."

I sighed. “You want me to talk to her?"

"To your sister? Nah," he said with a snort. "She is who she is, and nothin' any of us says or does is gonna change that. All you Isaiahs are like that, hardheaded like a mule, but you mean well...most of you."

I didn't have to ask who didn't. It wasn't exactly a well-kept secret that my brother wasn't loved among most men working the ranch, especially the few main house staff. Not that Joseph cared about being loved. Not even on the day he was wed or when his wife had his children. All that mattered to my brother was ensuring everything ran smoothly and, even more importantly, bringing in a profit he could build on. That didn't lend itself to making him care about his fellow man or even pay attention to most of them.

"I'm pretty easy," I said with a shrug, knowing that while my last name carried weight that I sometimes wished it didn't with guys on the ranch, it didn't count for anything with some, like Walter.

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